Sympathy for the Devil
by Lucas Logan
Summary: Wolverine has a minor lapse and slips in to a berzerker rage (something seen more with Beast than Wolvie in the Evo universe, I know). Only to find that undestanding comes in all shapes and sizes. Please R,R and - Enjoy!


Logan bounded through the streets of Bayville. His mind awash with pain. Vaguely he could still hear Xavier calling to him "NO! LOGAN! STOP!" But it was too late. The fire in his blood had consumed him and he had once again surrendered to a fit of berzerker rage.

He could smell them all. Four distinct smells – Four different people.

He vaulted a car with a one handed leap and landed square in the middle of the street. A line of cars jammed on their brakes but it was too late and they careened in to each other in an attempt to avoid him.

He tore down the alley baring his teeth and his mind retreated to the memory. It was like a scab that he couldn't avoid picking at because it itched – but this wasn't a simple itch, this was an all consuming obsession. His mind's eye produced the image: A small blue and broken body, laying just outside the front gates of the mansion. The deep red blood matting the soft, velvety blue fur.

Logan howled from the painful heat of the memory. It was a fierce and hurtful noise that sent animals and people alike to recoiling in terror.

Slowly, the figure in his mind struggled, lifting it's head slowly to look at him. His one eye socket battered so badly that the eye was lost beneath the puss and gore. His teeth broken and jagged. And when he opened his mouth to speak, a river of blood replaced the words and spewed out on to the pavement.

"Kurt!" He heard himself say in the memory – but the word was distant and meant very little to him compared to the smell of the Elf's blood and urine.

It was then that he had heard the distant shouts and laughs of Kurt's attackers. Mocking him from a distance. It was then that he caught their scent in the wind.

Four different scents – four different attackers.

He rounded the corner and caught sight of them – still laughing.

"You want some of this mutie?" One yelled drawing his pistol.

He tried to reply "Bring it on." But it just came out as a low and fiercesome growl.

Suddenly the men, if you could call them that, panicked.

The pistol rang out and all six shots slammed in to Logan as he ran at them. He didn't mind. Physical pain was always less to him than the emotional or spiritual kind.

The claws leapt out and the gunman lost his trigger finger along with the gun.

The next moment was lost to the static call of bloodlust and violence.

Slowly, Logan's senses returned and he was standing amid four tattered bodies in the dark alleyway. He looked down and recognized one of them. It was Duncan – Jeans old 'flame'. The one who had drawn the gun was dressed in blue, and it took several deep breaths for Logan to process that he was a cop.

Sirens blared and lights flashed in the distance.

Logan looked up and jumped for the fire escape. A moment later he was on the roof looking down as police and paramedics spilled out on to the scene.

The police had their guns drawn.

"We were attacked!" The fallen cop called out – but his fellow officers had trained their guns on the fallen men.

"You have the right to remain silent. And I suggest you use it!" One female officer called out to him. "The Xavier institute has a videotape of you four attacking a child outside their gates!'

The fallen cop fell back, abandoning all pretense.

"Internal affairs has been watching you for a long time!" She added.

Logan stared for a long moment, still slowly regaining his composure. He felt something in his hand and looked down to realize it was the cops finger. It had gotten caught between his fingers when he retracted his claws.

"I don't know if these two are gonna make it!" One paramedic called out.

"Who cares?" Another cop called back. "No one knows if that kids gonna make it either." He spit on the ground as they loaded the ambulance.

"He wasn't a kid!" The wounded cop called out of the ambulance. "He was a monster. A devil! Just look at him! GO LOOK AT HIM!!!"

"I've seen enough monsters for one night." The female cop replied, slamming the ambulance door closed.

"Who do you think did this?" One cop asked her quietly.

"One of those institute people." She replied calmly. "I don't care which one."

"Aren't we gonna check around?" He asked her.

"I've got kids." She said softly. "I'm not looking for whoever did this – and if I saw them…" She smiled sadly. "I wouldn't say a word."

The other cop swallowed, turned and stalked back to his car.

The female cop looked up in to the shadows, and smiled.

"What'cha looking at Teresa?" One asked her.

"Nothing." She replied curtly, looking away to face the man who had asked her the question. "Just remembering a song."

The man cocked his head curiously.

"Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners – Saints…" She replied.

"Sympathy for the Devil, right?" The other cop asked.

"Exactly." She replied. "Exactly."


End file.
